


Unsteady

by tommyshepherdd (atimeforflores)



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Angst, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 13:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4667717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atimeforflores/pseuds/tommyshepherdd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy Shepherd does not get hand outs, and hugs and kisses from moms, and he certainly doesn't get three meals a day, especially when he hasn't proved he earned them yet. That's what had been instilled not only in the Juvie but in his old home. When they had the money but had to choose between cigarettes and alcohol, Tommy knew what his parents chose each time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsteady

He looks back at the old brick apartment, and feels something strange flutter in his chest. His eyes ache like he stayed up too late reading, and his heart won’t stop pounding in his ears. He licks his lips, startled to find something wet and salty already on them. His whole face is wet. He stares at the apartment for a second more, and his stomach rolls violently when he sees a light come on in a familiar spot.

He chest hurts, and his head hurts and he’s crying.

He does what he is good at and runs.

…

It starts like this; Billy dragged him home that one night after discovering that Tommy had been living in the old abandoned warehouse on Main. The city is new to Tommy, having lived in a small town in New Jersey before and then the Juvie for almost a year. Billy rattles on about some TV show Tommy had never heard of; he feels unsteady and his hands are shaking but Billy keeps a firm grasp on his wrist, pulling him further and further away from his comfort zone.

Mrs. Kaplan smiles at them when they walk in, and Billy introduces him to her. She nods like she knows exactly who she is; maybe she does, having raised someone with his face for the last 14 and a half years. She kisses his forehead and tucks him under her arm. He shakes harder. This is not normal.

At dinner Mr. Kaplan piles food on his plate for him, pushing pieces of meat and spoonfuls of potatoes onto the glass after he sees how little Tommy got. He clasps a large hand on Tommy’s shoulder and squeezes; Tommy waits for him to tighten his hand to painful levels and is startled when the man lets go. His hands shake so bad he drops his fork three times, and each time the people at the table pretend nothing happened. He feels like he needs to puke. This is not normal.

Billy pulls him to the family room that night, putting on some Disney movie that Tommy had never heard of. He can’t concentrate on it anyways, the feeling of eyes drilling holes into his head too much to bear. Billy’s parents go to bed, wishing them a goodnight and giving them hair ruffles and hugs. Tommy can’t breathe. This is not normal.

Billy leads him to his room, and there is already a second bed set up. Billy shrugs bashfully, like he hadn’t carefully planned out everything, hadn’t been watching his brother for weeks and finally cornered him. Tommy stares at the crisp sheets on the bed, stares at the light blue color that seems too simple. He lays down, fully clothed, too ashamed to tell Billy that he had no other clothes. He can hear Billy’s breathing even out from the next bed over, digging his fingernails into his palms as he tells himself to shut up, that his hyperventilating was sure to wake the other boy. Tears stain the too soft pillow beneath his head. This is not normal.

He wakes up the next morning before Billy, unable to sleep through the light filtering through the shades. He doesn’t get out of the borrowed bed, unsure where exactly he is allowed in the apartment. He lays there for an hour, before Mr. Kaplan pokes his head in the door, calmly telling Billy to get up. Billy groans something from the other bed, and Tommy’s heart feels like it’s trying to rip its way out of his chest. With wide eyes he watches as Mr. Kaplan just grins and flips on the overhead light. He waits with a bated breath to see if the man does anything else, but he doesn’t, other than inform Tommy that breakfast is ready.

Tommy’s stomach growls at the thought, and he panics. Tears burn at his eyes, but Mr. Kaplan leaves before they fall. Billy finally drags himself out of bed, throwing a pair of boxers, a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt at Tommy’s head. He stares at the clothes in his hands, ignoring his twin’s sharp inhale at his red rimmed eyes. His vision blurs again. This is not normal.

Tommy Shepherd does not get hand outs, and hugs and kisses from moms, and he certainly doesn’t get three meals a day, especially when he hasn’t proved he earned them yet. That’s what had been instilled not only in Juvie but in his old home. When they had the money but had to choose between cigarettes and alcohol, Tommy knew what his parents chose every time.

Billy left the room, muttering something about a shower and to get dressed, leaving Tommy still staring at the clothes. He quickly darted in for a hug before he left, though, braving through the violent flinch Tommy gave.

Tommy closed his eyes, then, confused. Everything was wrong here, but he didn’t want it to change. He put on the clothes; the pants leg was a little short since he just had another growth spurt, and the t shirt was a little baggy since Tommy’s ribs had been sticking out but overall it was the comfiest outfit he had worn in a long time.

Neither boy mentioned what happened in the room that day.

Or the next, when Billy gave him another pair of sweatpants and a newer t shirt.

Or the day after that, when Tommy sat straight as Billy gave him another hug, or when he hardly flinched at Mrs. Kaplan kissing his brow that morning, or when Mr. Kaplan touched his shoulder and his hands hardly shook.

They didn’t talk about the next week when Tommy came out of the room by himself, or the way Billy found him sobbing in the kitchen because he wanted to turn on the coffee machine but couldn’t figure it out. Or how Tommy had tearfully explained that he had to pull his weight, that he had to prove that he could be good so they’d let him stay.

They didn’t speak of the next month when Tommy had a panic attack at the dinner table when he was asked if he wanted to call his parents.

They didn’t think about about how three months after that Billy had tackled Tommy for the remote and how Tommy actually fought back. Or how they ended up breaking one of Mrs. Kaplan’s vases. They definitely didn’t say anything about Billy using his powers in the house to fix it. They had a feeling she knew anyways.

And when Tommy fell asleep watching Lilo and Stitch- the movie he couldn’t remember watching, even though Billy said it was the one they watched that first night -seven months after moving in, shivering on the couch until Mr. Kaplan came out for a glass of water at 11 and saw him, and then draped the fluffiest and softest blanket over him, well, they didn’t mention Tommy turning and cracking one eye open and mumbling, “Thanks, dad.” to the man. They didn’t mention Mr. Kaplan smiling, and running hand through Tommy’s hair and saying, “you’re welcome, son.”, leaving the white haired boy with a kiss on the forehead.

They didn’t talk about how Tommy woke up at 2 a.m. that night, thinking he woke up from a dream too good to be true, then spotting the blanket that had fell off of him as he tossed and turned.

They didn’t talk about the flash of panic that struck Tommy like a lightning bolt, causing him to pack his things in a hurry, mistakenly packing those comfy sweat pants and t shirt that he loved so much and running out the house with just a bookbag and 27 dollars in his pocket.

Billy didn’t tell Tommy that he woke up in that moment of initial panic, feeling it himself. He didn’t tell Tommy that he watched as he packed in a flurry, and then speed out of the apartment. He didn’t tell him that he was the one who turned on the light that night, watching from his window as his brother stalled outside of the building for half an hour, watching as his brother drily wretched and stubbornly wiped his dripping nose with his sleeve, and watching as his brother turned and ran.

He didn’t say any of this, just hugged Tommy close after he returned from whatever dimension he was sent to, his own hands shaking as his brother hugged him back, as he didn’t let his brother go for a good half hour.

He just smiled as he opened the apartment door to find Tommy shuffling from foot to foot later that week, a backpack on his back and a shy smile firmly on his face.

He didn’t need to.

(Mrs. Kaplan smiled as Tommy entered the room, telling him to wash up for dinner, before grabbing Tommy into a hug of her own, kissing his forehead and telling him to stay this time. Mr. Kaplan piled food on Tommy’s plate that night, telling him that he was a growing boy and that none of his sons were going to have their ribs showing. Tommy cried at the table that day, but this time it was different. He waved them off, saying that they were happy tears. His hands didn’t shake as he ate, and his heart stayed where it was supposed to be. He was home.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this was literally written in a half hour so it wasn't the best but i was in an angsting mood.
> 
> shoot me some headcannons on tumblr.
> 
> gaysupersoldiers.tumblr.com


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